


Sometimes I feel like I've been here before

by nevermindedanyway



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst (sort of), Coming Out, Kent Parson is an asshole, M/M, Past Kent/Jack, Unreliable Narrator, but a lovable asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevermindedanyway/pseuds/nevermindedanyway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kent slowly gets over Jack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Ariana Grande's Honeymoon Avenue. This is likely to be 2 or 3 parts. I know literally nothing about the NHL and currently don't have a beta so if you see anything egregiously out of place please please let me know! Also I am not from the correct side of the pond so if I've put any accidental Britishisms in please do point them out.

Kent’s not hugely surprised when it happens.

 

He and Jack have been talking more over the past few months - since their December reconciliation turned into another Zimms-Parse blowout fight - than they had in the previous four years, almost. He’s watched Jack half-censor himself as he starts to tell Kent about how “Bittle sent me a link to this new song, it’s really good,” or how “Bittle says…” or the latest pie Bittle has baked. Kent’s always been able to read Jack. When they were teenagers, he knew Jack wanted him; it was written all over Jack’s face. It’s just as obvious to Kent now that Jack wants Eric.

 

He’s not upset about it, not really. He knew that coming on to Zimms at that party was a bad idea, but he’d never been one to let that stop him. He’s less reckless nowadays, for the most part, but Jack has always made him want to push at the boundaries of what’s reasonable, teeter on the knife edge between glory and disaster. He knows Jack was right to push him away, and it feels good to remember what it’s like to be friends with Jack Zimmermann. He’s missed it.

 

So he doesn’t resent the way the tiny blonde kid seems to have wormed his way into Jack’s affections. He seems nice enough, if not exactly the type to fly under the radar. (And seriously, where does that kid find the time to bake so often on top of his classes and training schedule? Kent never went to college, but he was under the impression it was meant to be hard work.) What he can’t quite work out, though, is whether Jack has realised what’s going on. He always was slow on the uptake.

 

It’s April, and the Aces are through to the playoffs again. They have a Cup win to defend, but instead of going through plays and getting into the zone the night before their first game, Kent is skyping Jack Fucking Zimmermann, listening to him talk about his teeny-tiny ECAC team and how well he and Bittle are playing together and Kent’s had enough.

 

“Are you guys screwing?” He interrupts Jack mid-sentence.

 

Jack blinks. “I-- uh-- what?” He looks confused.

 

“You and Bittle. Are you fucking?” He knows he’s being unnecessarily crude, and there’s an edge to his voice he doesn’t mean to be there, but he can’t help himself.

 

Maybe he’s not quite as 'over it' as he thought he was.

 

Jack’s sputtering a bit now, but Kent can’t quite work out if it’s because they _are_ fucking and Zimms is surprised Kent realised, if they aren’t but he would like to and he’s surprised Kent realised, or if Jack really hadn’t realised this was where his relationship with Bittle was headed and is surprised at the suggestion altogether. Kent has a feeling it might have been the latter, and isn’t sure how he feels about being the one to point this out to Jack. It’s possible he didn’t think this all the way through.

 

Jack continues to sputter for a few more seconds, before gathering his wits and telling Kent he needs to get going.

 

“Good luck for your game tomorrow, Kent.”

 

“Thanks, man.”

 

“Bye.”

 

Kent flops back onto his stupid bed in his stupid hotel room and lies there until Tommo finds him when he gets back from whatever his stupid pre-game ritual is. Probably fucking some puck-bunny or other. Asshole.

 

\--

 

They lose to the Blackhawks in the conference finals. Kent locks himself away in his apartment for a week with his phone off. He resurfaces to watch the Blackhawks win the Cup.

 

He calls Zimms to wallow. It doesn’t quite go to plan.

 

“You signed to fucking Providence, Jack? The fuck?”

 

“Uh…”

 

Fuck Zimms and his ‘man of few words’ ineloquent bullshit anyway.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Alicia Zimmermann calls Kent at the end of June.

“I know you’ll have some free time next month - you should come up to Montreal for a few days. Bring Sophie. It’s been far too long since we’ve seen you two troublemakers.”

“Alicia, I--”

“I’m not taking no for an answer, young man. Bob and I would love to see you, and I know Jack would too. You can use the rink as much as you need to train while you’re here.”

He ends up saying yes, and even looking forward to it despite himself. He hasn’t heard from Jack in a couple of weeks, but he’s pretty sure Alicia wouldn’t just invite him and his sister up to Montreal without asking Jack about it first. He thinks.

He texts Jack, just in case.

 

_Alicia just invited me & S to yours in a couple weeks. That ok?_

**Zimms:** _Sure. She’s invited half my college team too. Think she’s trying to stave off empty nest syndrome._

 

Oh. Right. Good.

\--

The next couple of weeks get busy. Captaincy is still more work than he expects, even into his second year of it. Trying to get to know the new draftees and their recently-signed free agents, getting up to date on their rivals’ rosters, making the prospect campers feel welcome - this is the sort of thing he’s never been much good at. He does his best, but by the end of the camp he’s absolutely exhausted. It’s the off-season, he’s not supposed to be exhausted right now.

He pulls up into his parents’ drive in a hired Audi, because why not? The five hours from JFK to Plattsburgh didn’t have to be uncomfortable as well as boring. Sophie runs down to greet him before he’s even managed to get out of the car, just pulls open the door and flings herself at him, ever a tangle of lithe limbs.

“Hey doofus. You miss me?”

“Shut up Kenny-boy, you know I did.” She huffs and extracts herself from the tangle they are in, nearly hitting her head on the door frame as she does. “You have no idea how pissed Mom and Dad are that you’re coming all the way up here to spend time at the Zimmermanns’ and not with them. You’re gonna get it at dinner.”

Sophie’s joking, he knows. Sort of.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is probably going to be more like 5(?) parts? I think? Maybe? Who knows! As ever, any hockey/US/Canada things that are out of place, please let me know!

The drive to the Zimmermanns’ place passes quickly. It’s a familiar route, for all that Kent hasn’t driven it since… everything. The draft. (The overdose.)

 

Sophie’s telling him all about her season, making the JV boat and the IRAs and how “Coach said if I keep working on my technique I’ve got a good shot at the Varsity eight next season.”

 

Kent’s trying to take an interest, he is, but he’s always been a hockey guy and while he loves that Soph loves crew, he really has no idea what she’s talking about most of the time. He feels like an asshole over it - Sophie follows the Aces even more closely than their mom and dad do.

 

It’s nice, though, that they have this in common - the athlete lifestyle. For all that hers is amateur, she trains nearly as often as he does. The joy of college sports, he guesses.

 

The Zimmermanns’ drive already has six cars on it when they pull up, to Kent’s mild dismay. He had been hoping he and Soph might be there first, to give him a chance to corner Jack properly. Maybe apologise properly for being an asshole about the Falcs. Maybe.

 

Bob comes out to the car to greet them. He grabs their duffle bags, for all that Kent and Sophie try to protest, and shows them to one of the guest rooms, saying, “I hope you don’t mind sharing a room. We’re a bit low on space for the weekend, I’m afraid.”

 

“It’s fine, Bob,” says Sophie. “Shotgun the bed by the window!”

 

Once they’ve unpacked, they head back downstairs to find Jack’s friend Shitty in the conservatory, playing MarioKart against the Samwell D-men whose names Kent can’t remember, and the tiny girl with the weird name (Larry? Laddy?) who kicked his ass at beer pong back in December.

 

Luckily, Shitty sees them first (“Kent motherfucking Parson! Good to see you, bro!”) and does the introductions (Ransom, Holster, _Lardo_ ). Shitty gives his controller to Sophie, and shepherds Kent into the kitchen to get drinks for everyone.

 

“Jack’s gone to pick Bitty up from the airport,” Shitty says, his head stuck in the fridge. “In case you were wondering where he is.”

 

“I was. Thanks.” Kent knows he shouldn’t be surprised, but a small part of him had been hoping Bitty wouldn’t be there.

 

“I’ve gotta say, bro, I’m kinda surprised you’re here,” says Shitty, handing him four beers and shutting the refrigerator door. “I thought you and Jack didn’t get on so well any more.”

 

That’s a very mild way of putting it, thinks Kent.

 

“We’re doing okay now,” he says out loud. “We’re good.”

 

It’s possible that calling things ‘good’ is a little optimistic, but he’s not about to get into the ins-and-outs of Kenny-and-Zimms with this guy he barely knows. He has no idea what Jack’s told him about them, and he’s not about to give him more information than he’s already got.

 

“Fair enough,” says Shitty, and they head back out to join the others.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Jack and Bitty arrive an hour later as the MarioKart tournament is winding down. 

Once again, Shitty notices the newcomers first, jumping up and near-screeching, “BITTY! My sweet southern son! Did you bring pie?”

Bitty stops in the doorway to the conservatory, his hands on his hips. “Shitty Knight, what do you take me for?” He’s grinning. “Of _course_ I brought pie.”

And with that, chaos erupts. 

Ransom yells, “BUNDLE!” and he, Lardo and Shitty run at full pelt towards the door. They slam into Bitty and knock him backwards into Jack, who folds like a deck of cards and they all go down in a tangle of limbs. They’re hugging and giggling and play-hitting one another and Kent’s never felt more out of place.

He can’t wallow, though. Sophie catches his eye over the writhing mass of hockey players, grins, and wanders over to the dogpile.

“Hi, Jack,” she says, looming over his upper body. “Long time, no see.”

“Hey, Soph,” comes Jack’s voice, a little muffled.

“Need a hand?” Sophie asks.

With Sophie’s help they manage to disentangle themselves. Jack introduces Sophie and Bitty, and it doesn’t take long for them to be bonding over workout playlists (“Taylor Swift makes surprisingly good ergo music,” says Sophie) and being small on a team of big people. Kent tries to join in the commiserations - he’s small for a pro - but Soph isn’t having any of it. 

“Sure, Mr Stanley Cup winner, tell me more about how your size is clearly holding you back.”

Kent rolls his eyes, and heads to the kitchen to get another beer.

He doesn’t manage to catch Jack alone that evening. He’s pretty sure Zimms is avoiding him deliberately, which is typical Jack: pretend everything’s fine over the phone, of _course_ Kent’s _totally_ welcome to come visit, and then when he actually arrives he gets blanked.

_Fuck you too, Zimms._

Kent gets up early the next morning and heads to the basement rink. He’s just about through warming up when he hears the clatter of someone coming down the stairs.

“You mind if I join you?” Bob says.

Kent grins. He’s not scrimmaged with Bob in years. “You’re on.”

The summer Kent turned seventeen, before everything got complicated, they did this all the time, Zimms-and-Parse versus Bad Bob. By the end of the summer, Jack and Kent were a well-oiled machine.

One-on-one with Bad Bob is intense. Kent’s better, though; he has youth and fitness on his side. They’ve been at it for a few minutes when Bob stops, looks over to the side of the rink and calls out, “Jack! Eric! You boys want to join us?”

Kent’s pretty sure he hears Bitty squeak at that. 

He skates over to the edge of the rink, where Jack and Bitty are arguing softly. Jack is shaking his head.

“C’mon Zimms,” says Kent. “Me and you, versus Bitty and Bob. How about it?”

Jack just looks at him.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” says Eric, softly.

That seems to shake Jack out of it. “No, it’s okay,” he says to Eric. “But,” he continues, looking back up at Kent, “I’m with Bittle.”

Well. Okay then. 

“Your loss,” says Kent, and skates back to Bob. “Come on then,” he yells back over his shoulder. “Let’s go!”

They’re surprisingly evenly matched. Bitty is _fast_ , and he and Jack… well, they're not far off what Kent and Jack had all those years ago. It’s disconcerting and thrilling at the same time.

“Better get used to this, Zimms,” he says to Jack at one point, “Me versus you on the ice.”

Jack grins back at him, shark-like. “Can’t wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://nevermindedanyway.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/ineverminded)


End file.
